Treatise On Purgatory.
By Saint Catharine Of Genoa.
[Footnote 118]
[Footnote 118: The month of November is usually set apart by pious Catholics for commemoration of the souls in purgatory, and for prayers and offerings in their behalf. As specially befitting the season, therefore, we republish anew the beautiful Treatise on Purgatory by St. Catharine of Genoa, with the above prefatory remarks by the translator. There have been several translations of the treatise heretofore published, and it might seem a needless work to give another. But besides its appropriateness to the season, and that many will read it in the pages of The Catholic World who might not elsewhere see it, the new translation we now give has special merits of its own which will justify its publication.—ED. C. W.]
When the gates of purgatory opened to Dante and his companion with awful thunderous roar, he heard mingling with the sound a chorus of voices—"We praise thee, O God!"—rising and fading away like a solemn chant and sound of the organ under the arches of some vast cathedral.
And afterward, while pursuing their journey, they felt the whole mountain of purgatory tremble. A shout arose—"Glory be to God in the Highest!"—swelled by the voice of every suffering soul in that vast realm. It was the expression of universal, unselfish joy over the deliverance of one soul from its bounds.
Such are the tones that ring all through the Treatise on Purgatory by St. Catharine of Genoa—full of praise, of holy joy, and of unselfish love. It ought to be read beneath the mild eyes of the Madonna in some old church, to the sound of solemn music. If you do not meet in it the dazzling angels of the great Florentine poet, you feel their presence, and you rejoice like him in the nooks of beauty where "spring sweet, pale flowers of penitence," refreshed by the fragrant dews of God's mercy.
The patient, silent suffering of the tried souls she describes, which are living on the glimpse they had of the divine Splendor at the moment of death, is full of eloquence. They suffer intensely, but peace and joy rise above pain, as in the beautiful bay of Spezia, we are told, the sweet water rises up out of the salt and bitter sea.
While reading this production of genius and of inspiration, we no longer shrink from that dark region, lighted up, as it is, by rays of God's wonderful goodness. With St. Catharine, we regard it as a provision of great mercy which the soul gladly avails itself of as a means of purification, which will fit it for the awful presence of him in whose sight the very stars are not pure—a presence the soul could not endure till it had purged "the world's gross darkness off." As Faber says, "The moment that in his sight it perceives its own unfitness for heaven, it wings its voluntary flight to purgatory, like a dove to her proper nest in the shades of the forest." It cries:
"Take me away, and in the lowest deep
There let me be,
And there in hope the lone night-watches keep,
Told out for me.
There, motionless and happy in my pain,
Lone, not forlorn,
There will I sing my sad perpetual strain,
Until the morn.
There will I sing, and soothe my stricken breast,
Which ne'er can cease
To throb, and pine, and languish, till possessed
Of its sole peace.
There will I sing my absent Lord and Love:—
Take me away,
That sooner I may rise, and go above,
And see him in the truth of everlasting day." [Footnote 119]
[Footnote 119: Dream of Gerontius, by Father Newman.]
M. le Vicomte de Bussierre, in writing of this treatise, says: "But is the state described by the saint that of all the souls detained by divine justice in this place of expiation?" The reply to this question requires some preliminary observations.
The dogma of the church respecting purgatory is very brief. The Holy Council of Trent is satisfied with declaring that there is a purgatory, and that the souls therein detained are helped by the suffrages of the faithful.
The church does not define the nature of the sufferings endured there, but this is our idea of them:
This world is a place of probation. In it are prepared the materials for the construction of the New Jerusalem. Not only stones are wanted for its walls, but jewels for its decoration. Diamonds are not cut in the same manner as common stones. Thence we can perceive the necessity of different ways of preparing the righteous for a higher state of existence. The place each one will occupy in heaven is irrevocably fixed at the moment of death, but, before taking possession of it, he must have the highest polish of which he is susceptible, and be without any defect or stain.
Take two persons who are entering purgatory. One has passed his life in gross sensual pleasures, but absolution with the necessary dispositions has restored him to the paths of righteousness; the other has always lived in innocence and in the closest union with God, but slight imperfections deprive him for a time of the beatific vision. Shall it be said that the manner of purifying these two souls is the same, and that their purgatory only differs in point of duration? It does not seem probable. We do not use the same means for removing a stain from a garment that we should for a particle of dust on a polished mirror.
This explanation will better enable us to understand St. Catharine's treatise. Most Christians believe there are sensible pains in purgatory. It is the view commonly taken of that state by our preachers. Our saint does not contradict this opinion. She speaks of a special purification for certain souls, but without excluding any. The soul in question in her treatise is a diamond already cut with wonderful exactness, and from which the Divine Artist is removing the last stain before placing it among his choicest jewels.
Faber says there are two views of purgatory prevailing among Christians, indicative of the peculiar tone of the mind of those who have embraced them.
One is, that it is a place of sensible torture, where the least pain is greater than all the pains of earth put together—an intolerable prison-house, full of wailing and horror; visited by angels, indeed, but only as the instruments of God's awful justice. The spirit of this view is a horror of offending Almighty God, a habitual trembling before his judgments, and a great desire for bodily austerities.
The second view does not deny any of these features, but it gives more prominence to other considerations. "The spirit of this view is love, an extreme desire that God should not be offended, and a yearning for the interests of Jesus." It is not so much a question of selfish consideration with the soul, as of God's will and glory. "Its sweet prison, its holy sepulchre, is in the adorable will of its Heavenly Father, and there it abides the term of its purification with the most perfect contentment and the most unutterable love."
In short, this second view is that of St. Catharine of Genoa, which comes home to our hearts, as we read her treatise, with joyful conviction—giving new conceptions of that holy realm of pain.
This treatise is not the production of human vanity. St. Catharine only wrote by the express wish of her spiritual director, who fathomed her genius and knew her familiarity with the secrets of the Most High. It is, in the estimation of judges of the highest authority, one of the most astonishing and admirable productions of mystical theology, says M. de Bussierre. And it has been approved of by the Holy See, and by the Sacred Congregation of Rites.
It was one of the favorite books of St. Francis de Sales, with whose spirit it is so greatly in harmony, and he calls the authoress a seraph.
And Faber styles her, "The Great Doctress of Purgatory."
St. Catharine was contemporary with Christopher Columbus, being born a few years later in the same city. And she was the grand-niece of Pope Innocent IV., who first gave, authoritatively, the name of Purgatory to the Intermediate State, and who was, like her, of the noble house of the Fieschi.
The French author so often quoted says: "There are many expressions in this work to which a forced meaning is not to be given. St. Catharine represents a soul as strictly united to God as it can be without being absorbed in the divinity. But she does not annihilate individuality. She does not teach pantheism. She only expresses the doctrine of St. Paul, 'In ipso vivimus, et movemur, et sumus:' 'In him we live, and we move, and we are.'"
How she makes us long for that union, and welcome all that hastens it! We would join with all our earth-worn heart in that "liturgy of hallowed pain." "O world!" we cry with Faber—"O weary, clamorous, sinful world! who would not break away, if he could, like an uncaged dove, from thy perilous toils and unsafe pilgrimage, and fly with joy to the lowest place in that most pure, most safe, most holy land of suffering and of sinless love?"
(Hector Vernaccia, who first published the works of St. Catharine of Genoa, wrote the following preface to her Treatise on Purgatory:)
"The soul of Catharine, still clad in the flesh, was plunged in the furnace of God's ardent love, which consumed and purified her from every imperfection, so that at the end of her life she was fitted to pass at once into the presence of God, the only object of her affection. This interior fire made her comprehend that the souls in purgatory are placed there to be purified from the rust and stain of the sins which they had not expiated on earth. Swallowed up in this divine and purging fire, she acquiesced in the will of God, rejoicing in all his love wrought in her; she clearly understood what must be the state of the souls in purgatory, and thus wrote thereof:"
Chapter I.
State Of The Souls In Purgatory—
They Are Divested Of All Self-love.
The souls which are confined in purgatory, as it is given me to understand, can wish for no other dwelling-place than that wherein God hath justly placed them.
They have no longer the power of reviewing their past lives. Nor can they say: "I deserve to remain here for such and such sins. Would that I had not committed them! Then should I be participating in the joys of heaven." Neither can they compare the duration of their punishment with that of others. They have neither in good nor evil any remembrance which aggravates their pains, not even respecting others; but they feel a great satisfaction in being at the disposal of God, who doeth all that seemeth to him good, and as it pleaseth him, so that in their greatest sufferings they cannot think of themselves. They regard only the goodness of God, whose infinite mercy would draw all men to himself. They anticipate neither the pain nor the solace that may be their portion: if they could, they would not be in a state of pure love.
Nor do they see that they are suffering in punishment of their sins. They cannot retain such a view in their minds, for that would be an active imperfection, and impossible in a place where there is no actual sin.
Only once, at the moment of quitting this world, do they see the cause of purgatory which they have in themselves, but never afterward, or there would be some selfish consideration. Being in a state of pure love, from which they cannot deviate by actual fault, they can only will and desire what is conformable to that pure love. For in the flames of purgatory they are under the divine ordinance and will; that is to say, in that state of pure charity from which they can no longer be separated by any cause whatever, because it is as impossible for them to commit actual sin as it is to acquire actual merit.
Chapter II.
Of The Joy Of The Souls In Purgatory—
Comparison Which Shows How These
Souls Behold God More And More Clearly—
Difficulty Of Describing This State.
I do not believe that there can be any peace comparable to that felt by the souls in purgatory, unless that of the saints in paradise. And each day this peace increases by the influence which God exercises over the soul. It increases in proportion as the impediment to that influence is consumed.
This impediment is nothing else than the rust of sin. The fire consuming the rust, the soul is more and more exposed to the divine influence. An object which is covered cannot correspond to the reverberation of the sun's rays; not by any fault of the sun, which ceases not to shine, but because of the covering on the object. If that be consumed, the object beneath is laid open to the sun; and the more completely the covering is consumed, the more perfect the reverberation.
So the fire of purgatory wears away the rust of sin which covers the soul, exposing it to God—the true sun—in proportion to its purity, and, in the same proportion, increasing its peace. So that its happiness goes on increasing and the rust wearing away till the time be fully accomplished.
The pain which results from the desire of beholding God does not diminish, but the time of its duration does. As to their will, these souls can never say their pains are pains, so satisfied are they with the will of God, with which their will is united in purest love.
On the other hand, nevertheless, they endure a torment so extreme that no tongue can depict it—no understanding grasp the least comprehension of it, unless by a special grace from God. He has given me some idea of it, but I cannot well express it. What the Lord has revealed to me has always remained imprinted on my mind. I will relate what I can of it. They will understand me to whom God giveth the intelligence.
Chapter III.
Separation From God The Greatest Torment Of Purgatory—
Wherein Purgatory Differs From Hell.
All pain is the consequence of original or actual sin. God created the soul perfectly pure, and gave it a certain instinct for happiness which forces it toward him as its true centre.
Original sin enfeebles this instinct in the soul at the beginning. Actual sin diminishes it still more. The more this instinct diminishes the worse the soul becomes, because God's grace to the soul is withdrawn in proportion.
All goodness is only by participation in the goodness of God, which is constantly communicated, even to those creatures which are deprived of reason, according to his will and ordinance. As to the soul endowed with reason, he communicates his grace to it in proportion as he finds it freed from the obstacle of sin. Consequently, when a guilty soul recovers in a measure its primitive purity, its instinct for happiness also returns and increases with such impetuosity and so great an ardor of love, drawing it to its chief end, that every obstacle becomes to it an insupportable torment. And the more clearly it sees what detains it from union with God, the more excessive is its pain.
But the souls in purgatory being freed from the guilt of sin, there is no other impediment between God and them but this pain which prevents the complete satisfaction of their instinct for happiness; and they see in the clearest manner that the least impediment delays this satisfaction by a necessity of justice: thence springs up a devouring fire, like to that of hell, excepting the guilt.
This guilt constitutes the malignant will of the damned, which obliges God to withhold his goodness from them; so they remain in a fixed state of despair and malignity, with a will wholly opposed to the divine will.
Chapter IV.
State Of The Soul In Hell—
Difference Between It And That Of The Soul In Purgatory—
Reflections Upon Those Who Neglect The Affairs Of Salvation.
It is, then, clear that the perverse will of man in revolt against the will of God constitutes sin, and that the guilt of sin cannot be effaced from the soul while it is under the dominion of that evil will.
Now, the souls in hell departed this life with a perverse will; consequently, their guilt has not been washed away, and now cannot be, because death has rendered their will unchangeable. The soul is for ever fixed in a state of good or evil, according to the disposition of the will at the moment of death. Wherefore it is written: Ubi te invenero, that is to say, Wherever I find thee at the hour of death—with a will to sin or to repent of sin—ibi te judicabo, there will I judge thee; and from this judgment there is no appeal, because, all freedom of choice ceasing with life, the soul must remain unalterably fixed in the state in which death finds it.
The souls in hell are guilty to an infinite degree, being found with a sinful will at the moment of death. Their pain is not so great as they merit, but it will never end.
As for the souls in purgatory, they only endure pain. Guilt was effaced before death by a true sorrow for having offended the divine goodness. This pain is finite, and the time of its duration is constantly diminishing.
O misery transcending all other woes, and so much the greater because the blindness of man takes no precaution against it!
The torments of the damned, we have said, are not infinite in their rigor. The great goodness of God extends a ray of mercy even to hell. A man expiring in a state of deadly sin merits a punishment infinite in duration and in intensity. God, in his justice, could have inflicted on the damned torments far greater than they have to endure; but while he has rendered them infinite as to their duration, he has limited their intensity.
Oh! how dangerous is voluntary sin; for repentance is difficult, and, unrepented of, the guilt of sin remains, and will remain as long as man retains his affection for past sins or has the will to commit them anew.
Chapter V.
Of The Peace And Joy In Purgatory.
The souls in purgatory, being entirely freed from the guilt of sin, and thus far restored to their original purity, and their volition being entirely conformed to that of God, they are constantly participating in his goodness.
Their guilt is remitted because, before departing this life, they repented of their sins and confessed them with a firm purpose not to commit any more. They retain, then, only the rust of sin which is worn away by those penal fires.
Being thus cleansed from all sin and united to God by their will, they contemplate him clearly according to the degree of light which is given them. They comprehend how important it is that they should enjoy God, the end for which they were created. They feel so united to him by entire conformity of will, and are attracted so powerfully toward him by a natural instinct, that I find no comparison, or examples, or way by which I can express this impetuosity as I understand it. Nevertheless, I will give a comparison which has been suggested to my mind.
Chapter VI.
Comparison Illustrating The Ardent Love With Which The Souls In Purgatory Long For Union With God.
If in all the world there were but one loaf, the mere sight of which would satiate the hunger of all creatures, what would be the feelings of a man, with a natural instinct to eat when he is in health, if he were neither able to eat, nor yet to be ill or to die? His hunger would always be increasing with its undiminished instinct, and, knowing that he could be satiated by the very sight of this loaf of which he is deprived, he remains in unbearable torments. The nearer he approaches it, the more ravenous is his hunger, which draws him toward this food, the object of his desire.
If he were sure of never beholding this bread, he would endure a kind of hell, like that of the eternally lost, who are deprived of the Bread of Life and of the hope of ever beholding Christ our Redeemer.
The souls in purgatory, on the contrary, hope to behold this bread and to eat their fill thereof; but meanwhile they suffer the torments of a cruel hunger after it—that is to say, after Jesus Christ, the God of our salvation and our love.
Chapter VII.
Of The Wonderful Wisdom Of God In
The Creation Of Purgatory And Hell.
As the purified soul finds its repose only in God, for whom it was created, so the soul defiled by sin has no other place but hell assigned it for its destination.
The soul, at the moment of its separation from the body, naturally gravitates toward its true centre. If in a state of deadly sin, it goes to its appointed place, carried there by the very nature of sin. If it did not find this place provided for it by divine justice, it would remain in a worse hell; for it would no longer be under the ordinance of God, still participating in his mercy, and where the pain is less than the soul merits.
Not finding, then, any place better suited to it, or less fearful than hell, by divine appointment it gees thither as to its own place.
It is the same with purgatory. The soul, separated from the body, not finding in itself all its primitive purity, and seeing that this impediment to its union with God can only be removed by means of purgatory, voluntarily throws itself therein. If the place prepared for the removal of this impediment did not exist, there would instantaneously be generated in the soul a torture far worse than purgatory, for it would comprehend that this impediment would hinder it from union with God, its aim and its end.
This end is so ardently longed for, that the torments of purgatory seem as nothing, although, as we have said, they are like those of hell in some respects. But, I repeat, they seem as nothing compared with the soul's true end.
Chapter VIII.
Of The Necessity Of Purgatory And
The Terrible Nature Of Its Torments.
Furthermore I will say: the gates of heaven, through the goodness of God, are closed against no one. Whoever wishes can enter, for the Lord is full of mercy, and his arms are constantly extended to receive us into glory.
But I see also that this divine essence is of such purity, surpassing all we can imagine, that the soul which perceives in itself the slightest mote of imperfection would cast itself into a thousand hells rather than remain with a single stain in the presence of infinite Majesty.
Therefore, seeing purgatory ordained for the removal of these stains, the soul plunges into it, esteeming it a provision of wonderful mercy by which it can be freed from the impediment it finds in itself.
No tongue can express, no mind conceive, the nature of purgatory. As to the severity of its torments, they equal those of hell. [Footnote 120] Nevertheless, the soul with the slightest stain endures them as a merciful dispensation, regarding them as nothing in comparison with what opposes their union with God.
[Footnote 120: Except that the souls in purgatory are not separated from the love and will of God, and have hope.]
I seem to understand that the sorrow of the souls in purgatory for having in themselves the cause of God's displeasure, resulting from their past offences against his great goodness—I seem to understand, I say, that this sorrow surpasses all the other torments which they endure in this place of purification. Being in a state of grace, they comprehend the force and seriousness of the obstacle which hinders their union with God.
Chapter IX.
The Mutual Love Of God And The Souls In Purgatory—
Difficulty Of Finding Expressions On This Subject.
Everything which has been revealed to me upon this subject, and which I have comprehended according to the capacity of my mind, is of so much importance that, compared therewith, all the knowledge, all the sayings, all the opinions, all the reason, and all the wisdom of man in this life seem as vain trifles and as things of no account. I acknowledge, to my confusion, that I can find no other words to express my meaning.
I perceive so great a conformity between God and the soul in purgatory that, in order to restore the latter to its original purity, God inspires in the soul an ardent love which draws it toward him—a love forcible enough to annihilate it, were it not immortal. It transforms it to such a degree that the soul beholds nothing but God, who draws and inflames it continually, without ever abandoning it, till he has brought it back to the source whence it issued, that is to say, to the perfect purity in which it was created.
And when the soul, interiorly enlightened, feels itself thus attracted by the fire of God's great love, it melts completely in its ardor. It sees, by a supernatural light, that God never ceases to lead it on, with constant providential care, to its entire perfection; it sees that God is prompted only by pure love, and that the soul, impeded by the effects of sin, can only follow the divine impulse, that is to say, that attraction which draws it toward God; it comprehends also the greatness of the obstacle which hinders its admission to the presence of the divine light; finally, it is drawn by that powerful instinct which would have nothing hinder it from yielding to the divine attraction: it sees and feels all these things, I say, and therein is the source of the soul's torments in purgatory.
But it does not regard its pain, however great: it regards infinitely more the obstacle the will of God finds in it, that will which it clearly sees is full of the purest and most ardent love for it.
This love and this unitive attraction act so continually and so powerfully upon the soul, that if it could find another purgatory more terrible than this, in which it could be sooner delivered from all that separates it from the Sovereign Good, it would speedily plunge therein, through the impetuosity of the love it bears to God.
Chapter X.
How God Purifies The Soul In Purgatory—
The Soul Acquires Therein
Such Perfect Purity That Were It
To Remain There After Its Purification
It Would Suffer No More.
I behold, also, the ardent rays of divine love toward the souls of men penetrating and potent enough to destroy, not only the body, but the soul even, if that were possible.
These rays produce two effects: they purify, and they annihilate.
Look at gold: the more you melt it the purer it becomes, and you could go on refining it till every impurity is destroyed. Such is the effect of fire upon material things. Though the soul cannot annihilate itself in God, it can in its own self; and the more it is purified, the more completely is it annihilated in itself, till at last it rests quite pure in God.
It is said that gold, when it is purified to a certain degree, no longer diminishes, whatever degree of heat it may be exposed to, because nothing but the dross can be consumed. The divine fire acts in like manner upon the soul. God holds it in the fire till every imperfection is consumed. He thus reduces all souls to a state of purity, each one according to its own degree of perfection.
And when the soul is thus purified it rests altogether in God, without retaining anything in itself. It has its being then in God. And when he has brought the soul to himself, thus purified, it becomes impassible, for there is nothing left in it to be consumed. And should it still remain in the fire after being thus purified, it would suffer no longer. That fire would be to it a flame of divine love itself eternal life, in which the soul could experience no more contradictions.
Chapter XI.
The Souls In Purgatory Desire To
Purified From Every Stain Of Sin—
Of The Wisdom Of God In Immediately
Concealing From These Souls Their Faults.—
The soul was originally endowed with all the means of attaining its own degree of perfection, by living in conformity with the laws of God and keeping itself pure from all stain of sin. But, being contaminated by original sin, it loses its gifts and graces. It dies, and can only rise again by the assistance of God. And when he has raised it to life again by baptism, a bad inclination still remains in the soul, leading it, if unresisted, to actual sin, by which it dies anew. God raises it again by another special grace; nevertheless it remains so soiled, so fallen back upon itself, that, to be restored to the state of purity in which God created it, it has need of all the divine operations before mentioned to enable it to return to its primitive condition.
When the soul is on its way back to this state, its desire of being lost in God is so great as to become the purgatory of the soul.
Purgatory is nothing to it as purgatory. The burning instinct which forces it toward God, only to find an impediment, constitutes its real torture.
By a last act of love, God, the author of this plan for the perfection of the soul, works without the concurrence of man; for there are in the soul so many hidden imperfections that if it saw them it would be in despair. But the state of which we have just spoken destroys them all. It is only when they are obliterated that God shows them to the soul, in order that it may comprehend the divine operation wrought by this fire of love consuming all its imperfections.
Chapter XII.
How Joyfully Suffering Is Endured In Purgatory.
Remember that what man considers perfect in itself, is full of defects in the eyes of God. Everything man does which has the appearance of perfection from the point of view in which he sees it, or feels, understands, wills, or recalls it, is soiled and infected if he does not attribute it to God.
Our deeds are perfect only when they are wrought by us, without considering ourselves the principal agents, and when they are referred to God, we being only his instruments.
Such are precisely the final operations of pure love wrought by God himself in the soul, without any merit on our part. These operations are so ardent and so penetrating in their effects upon the soul, that it seems as though the body which envelops it would be consumed as in a great fire where death alone could give relief.
It is true that the love of God which fills the soul in purgatory inspires it, according to my comprehension, with a joy that cannot be expressed. But this satisfaction does not take away one particle of the pain. Nay, it is the hindering of love from the possession of its object which causes the pain, and the pain is in proportion to the perfection of the love of which God has made the soul capable.
Thus it is that the souls in purgatory at once enjoy the greatest tranquillity and endure the greatest pain; and the one in no way hinders the other.
Chapter XIII.
No Merit Is Acquired In Purgatory—
In What Manner The Souls In Purgatory Regard The
Suffrages Made In Their Behalf On Earth.
If the stains of the souls in purgatory could be effaced by contrition, the divine justice might in an instant be satisfied, so profound and ardent is their sorrow in view of the great obstacle which opposes their union with God, their chief end and their love.
But, remember, God has decreed that the last farthing is to be demanded of these souls for the satisfaction of eternal justice. As to them, they have no choice; they can now see and wish only what God wishes. This is the unalterable state of their souls.
If some spiritual alms are given on earth to abridge the time of their sufferings, they cannot regard them with affection, only as they are weighed in the equitable scales of the divine will, leaving God to act according to his own pleasure, and to pay himself and his justice in the way his own infinite goodness chooses to select.
If it were possible for them to regard these alms apart from the good pleasure of God, they would be guilty of an act of appropriation which would deprive them of the knowledge of the divine will, and thus making their abode a hell.
Thus they receive every appointment of God with tranquillity, and neither joy, nor satisfaction, nor sufferings can ever induce them to fall back upon themselves.
Chapter XIV.
Of The Submission Of The Souls
In Purgatory To The Will Of God.
These souls are so perfectly conformed to the will of God that they are always satisfied with his holy decrees.
If a soul were admitted to the vision of God, having still something left to be cleansed away, it would consider itself grievously injured and its sufferings worse than many purgatories, for it would be unable to endure that excessive goodness and that perfect justice.
What an incongruity it would be in the sight of God, as well as of the soul, for his justice not to be entirely satisfied! If this soul lacked a single moment of expiation, it would feel an insupportable torture, and would plunge into a thousand hells to remove this little rust rather than remain in the presence of God without being entirely purified.
Chapter XV.
A Warning To People Of The World.
Would that I could cry loud enough to frighten all the men who dwell upon the face of the earth, and say to them: O miserable men! why do you suffer yourselves to be so blinded by the world as not to make any provision for that imperious necessity in which you will find yourselves at the moment of death?
You all shelter yourselves under the hope of God's mercy, which you call so infinite. But do you not see that it is precisely this great goodness of God which will rise up in judgment against you, miserable men, for rebelling against the will of so good a Lord?
His goodness should incite you to the full accomplishment of his will, instead of encouraging you to sin with impunity; for, be fully assured, his justice can never fail, and it must, in some way, be entirely satisfied.
Do not reassure yourself by saying: I will confess all my sins, I will gain a plenary indulgence, and thus I shall be cleansed at once from all my iniquities; and so I shall be saved. Remember that contrition and confession are necessary to gain a plenary indulgence. And perfect contrition is so difficult to acquire that, if you knew how difficult it is, you would tremble for very fear, and would be much more certain of not gaining the indulgence than of obtaining such a grace.
Chapter XVI.
In Which It Is Shown That The Torments
Of Purgatory Do Not Affect The Peace And
Joy Of The Souls Therein Detained.
I see that the souls suffering in purgatory are conscious of two operations of divine grace in them.
By the first of these operations they willingly endure their sufferings. Considering, on the one hand, what they have merited, and, on the other, the incomprehensible majesty of an offended God, they understand the extent of his mercy toward them. For a single sin merits a thousand hells eternal in duration; but the goodness of God tempers justice with mercy in accepting the precious blood of Jesus Christ in satisfaction for sin. So that these souls endure their torments so willingly that they would not have them diminish one iota. They see how fully they are merited, and how righteously they are ordained: and as to their will, it no more revolts against that of God than if they were participating in the joys of eternal life.
The second operation of grace in these souls consists in the peace with which they are filled in view of the divine ordinances, and the love and mercy of God manifested in their behalf.
The knowledge of these two operations is imprinted by God on these souls in an instant, and, as they are in a state of grace, they comprehend them, every one according to his capacity. They feel a great joy, which, far from diminishing, goes on increasing in proportion as the time for their union with God approaches.
These souls do not view these things in themselves or as belonging to themselves; they view them in God, with whom they are far more occupied than with their own torments. For the least glimpse man has of God transcends every pain and every imaginable joy.
Nevertheless, their excessive joy does not in the least detract from their pain, nor their extreme pain in the least from their joy.
Chapter XVII.
In Which St. Catharine Applies What
She Has Written Of The Souls In
Purgatory To What She Has Felt
And Experienced In Her Own Soul.
My own soul has experienced the same state of purification as that of the souls in purgatory—especially within two years—and each day I see and feel this more clearly. My soul remains in the body as in a purgatory, but only in such a degree of suffering as the body can endure without dying. And this suffering will go on increasing by degrees till the body is no longer able to support it, and will really die.
My mind has become unused to all things, even spiritual, which could refresh it, such as joy, pleasure, or consolation. It is no longer able, by will, understanding, or memory, to relish anything, whether of a temporal or spiritual nature, so that I can say one thing pleases me more than another.
My soul has been so besieged, as it were, that by degrees it has been deprived of all that could refresh me spiritually or corporally. Even this privation makes me feel the power these things have of nourishing and refreshing me; but the soul, conscious of this power, loathes and abhors them to such a degree that they have ceased for ever to tempt me.
For it is an instinct of the soul to strive to overcome every obstacle to its perfection—an instinct so cruelly exacting that it would, as it were, allow itself to be cast into hell to achieve its object. It goes on then depriving itself of everything in which the inner man can delight, and this with so much subtlety that the slightest imperfection is noted and detested.
The outer man, being no longer sustained by the consolations of the soul, suffers to such a degree that, humanly speaking, it can find nothing on earth to sustain it. There remains for it no other consolation than God, who ordereth all these things in infinite mercy and love, for the satisfaction of his justice. This view inspires me with great peace and joy, which, nevertheless, do net diminish the violence of my sufferings; but no pain could be severe enough to induce me to deviate in the least from the order of things established by God. Nor would I leave this prison till the Lord hath accomplished his designs upon me. My peace consists in satisfying the justice of God, and I could find no torment greater than in deviating from his ordinance, so perfectly just and good does it seem to me.
I see—I feel, as it were—all the things I have here related; but I find no words to express my meaning suitably as to what I have here written. I have felt its operation in my own soul, which has given me the necessary knowledge for writing about it.
The prison in which I seem to be is the world; the chain that binds me therein is the body. And the soul, illuminated by grace, recognizes the importance of the obstacles which hinder it from attaining its true end. This causes great grief to the soul, on account of its extreme sensibility. Nevertheless, it receives, through the pure grace of God, a certain impress of dignity, which not only assimilates it to God, but renders it in a manner one with him by a participation of his goodness. And, as it is impossible for God to suffer, so the soul which lives in union with him becomes impassible, and the more complete this union the more it shares in the divine attributes.
But the delay of this union causes an intolerable suffering in the soul. And this suffering and this delay make it different from what it was at its creation. God, by his grace, makes known to it its original condition. Without the power of returning to it, and yet feeling itself adapted to that condition, it remains in a state of suffering proportionate to its love for God. This love increases with the soul's knowledge of God, and its knowledge increases in the same ratio as the soul is purified from sin. Thus this delay becomes more and more intolerable, because the soul, entirely absorbed in God, has nothing more to hinder it from truly knowing him.
The man who prefers to suffer death rather than offend God is not the less fully alive to its pangs, but the divine grace inspires him with a fervor which makes him think more of the honor of God than the life of the body. It is the same with the soul that knows the will of God. It regards that as of infinitely more importance than all interior or exterior sufferings whatever, however terrible they may be; for the Lord who worketh in it surpasses all that can be felt or imagined. The result is that the slightest hold of God upon the soul keeps it so united to his supreme will that everything else is esteemed as nothing. The soul thus loses all consideration of self. It becomes so regardless of pain that it does not speak of it or even feel it. It is conscious of its real condition for one moment only—as has been said before—when passing from this life to the next.
I will only add, in conclusion: let us become thoroughly impressed with the fact that God, at once good and powerful, has created purgatory for the purification of man, wherein is consumed and annihilated all that he is by nature.